Shedding Scales
by sekdaniels
Summary: to shed: to emit and let fall, as tears; to cast off or let fall by natural process. Choosing death was easy. Moving on from that would prove to be much tougher. AU: Snape survives Nagini's attack to fight another day, but will he enjoy the life left to him?
1. The Eyes of the Dragon

**A/N:** A long overdue giftfic for the wonderful, nurturing and completely inspiring Story, Please. My writing has grown in leaps and bounds in the few months I had a chance know and work with you; and to think, I was writing to help you? Ha!

It has suddenly become a multi-chapter fic, so here is the first installment based on a few prompts from the guru herself.

Prompts include:

Animagus transformation

Someone has a bad reaction to a potion ingredient

Thar be dragons

Christmas/ Winter theme

 **The Eyes of the Dragon**

 _Has this ever happened before when using Polyjuice potion?_ He cocked an eyebrow to emphasize his growing annoyance. He already had another crisis on his hands at the moment, and _this_ was not easing his anxiety one iota.

"It's been a few years since I've needed to use Polyjuice potion, Severus," Minerva answered, in a huff. "It's not like I regularly wander around the castle pretending to be someone else!" She turned her back on him, settling into a warm, sunny spot on her desk and began to groom her ears.

"I think you've been trying to make do with inferior ingredients again," she purred. "I would check on your Lacewing stores to make sure they aren't rancid."

Severus Snape had no choice but to wait her out. Minerva could be catty sometimes, but this took the cake. It frustrated him no end to look upon her backside, (no matter how adorably furry) but he was going to have to live with it for the moment. He needed her assistance, pride be damned. This went well beyond her questioning the quality of his potions stores.

He would have cleared his throat, had it been physically possible.

 _One of the drawbacks of having one's throat ripped out by a snake._ he mused to himself.

"What was that?" she asked, peering up at him from beneath her own back leg.

Severus cringed. He'd forgotten to close off his mind. _Again_. He was getting very sloppy with that now that it was his primary means of communication. His mind had gone from being a steel trap to an open book in little less than ten years. It made him feel vulnerable.

 _You know very well that I personally collect most of my stores now that I no longer teach. I can vouch for the vast majority of my ingredients as being of the highest quality._

Minerva paused in her cleaning to look back over her shoulder at him and rolled her large, green eyes.

"Well, _something_ was wrong with the potion. You see the state I'm in!"

She got up onto all fours and arched her back, turning around to face him again. She stretched, languidly, before curling herself back up on the desk, all the while making sure her back was being warmed by the late winter sun pouring through the window.

 _That begs the question, Minerva; what_ were _you using the Polyjuice for, anyway?_

Her eyes got big and round as she slowly retracted her leg and sat upright in a distinctly Minerva way. "As Headmistress of Hogwarts, it is well within my purview to review the standards and upkeep of potions throughout the school!"

Severus imagined he could see her straightening her robes as she spoke. So _thoroughly_ Minerva.

 _By all means, of course; but that doesn't usually mean testing them out on one self._

If Minerva had had lips to purse, now would have been the time; as it was, she was sitting as erect as one might imagine a feline likely to and had narrowed her eyes to nothing but tense, narrow, lime-green slits.

Severus cocked an eyebrow.

"I assume you came here for something else besides my random potions sampling?" she asked, dismissing the previous topic altogether.

He had almost forgotten. _Almost_.

 _Why yes. I did._ He pulled a what looked like a Remembrall out of his pocket and motioned towards the curtains with a questioning look. Minerva nodded tightly and he quickly closed them with a casual flick of his wand.

Severus pulled up a seat next to Minerva's desk. Considering her current predicament, most importantly her lack of opposable thumbs, he held the glass up to her eye level and motioned over it with his wand.

The normal clouds of white mist gave way to images moving across the small field of vision. Severus had _modified_ this Remembrall to show images from his own memory, much like a

Pensieve. It had some advantages — like being portable — but it also had detriments; namely, it could only show so much at once. It was a work in progress; surprisingly little research had been done on communication with mutes. So, while the device spared him needing to try and explain everything via Legilimency, it also, sometimes, created more confusion because of the context that might be left out.

Minerva feared this might be one of those times.

"Dragons?" she asked. "Here?!"

 _Evidently_ He stood up and smoothed down the front of this robes; then he looked at Minerva.

"This is going to require some expertise, and a little backup," she said. She finished her grooming and then took a haughty stance, looking up at him expectantly.

 _Really?_ he asked, keeping is arms firmly crossed in front of his body.

Minerva managed to cock an eyebrow of her own and smirk in a uniquely feline way. Severus felt his shoulder slump in defeat.

"Really," she replied, and she leapt into his arms.

XXXXX

 _I'm still not sure what we need Hagrid for._ Severus complained.

Minerva was certain that if she could see his face, he'd be pouting. Tucked up as she was into Hagrid's warm flannel vest, Minerva could peek out and see where they were headed, but preferred to stay comfortably stowed away against the sharp winter wind coming off the lake as the motley crew made their way toward the Forbidden Forest.

It was most definitely out of character for Severus to be so emotionally invested in anything, but this case might be somewhat different. She was almost smug in her certainty, but she kept her Cheshire Cat's smile to herself.

' _Not that Severus would ever admit to being so committed,'_ she thought. ' _He never even managed to admit to Lily until it was far too late.'_ Minerva's tail twitched.

 _Does this mean you are not going to answer me?_ Severus broke into Minerva's thoughts, prodding her again.

 _Shall I answer aloud so that Hagrid can hear that you would rather he not be here? Or should I continue to talk to you this way so that it is obvious to our third party that we are purposefully not including him?_

Severus stuffed him hands down deeper in his pockets and silently huffed. Minerva could only tell he'd done so from the puff of mist that crystallized in front of his face.

In the decade since the end of the last war, Minerva had never quite gotten used to _not_ being able to hear the voice of Severus Snape. He had always moved with the grace of a cat, pun intended, but now, without his distinctive voice, he had become more silent than a House Ghost floating along the corridors. Granted, in her mind, his voice was the same as it had been in life, but to see him trudge through the snow without hearing him make so much as a sigh against the cold was unnerving still.

' _What would_ _ **I**_ _do if I were suddenly a mute?'_ Minerva was not certain that she would have handled it with as much aplomb as Severus had.

"You should really be wearing a hat," she said aloud, without preface. It was a habit of her dotage that she considered an expression of her latent maternal streak. When her words failed her, she moved to take physical care of those she loved. It was a weak substitute, she knew, but it was sometimes all she had.

"I ha'e an extra in mah pocket, if yer wannit?" Hagrid offered, amiably. Severus made a show of pulling up his hood and hiding his face from them both with no reply, verbal or otherwise.

"Do you know where we're headed, Hagrid?" She turned to her warm, burly companion.

"Shuld'na be far afore we're thinkin' ta stop and regroup," Hagrid answered, oblivious to the snub intended by Severus' cold shoulder. "You said you werna sure o'where she is?"

"That's right," Minerva answer for herself and her brooding companion. "We only got the one message via her Patronus. And she was whispering as as not to wake up the mother."

"Caw…dragons...right here in me own backyeard," he mused, the smile growing bigger on his face.

 _Make sure our Gameskeeper doesn't get too excited about this one. We certainly can't keep it!_

Minerva made no outward answer choosing rather to leer over at the hooded figure instead, trying as she might to stare daggers at him through the heavy velvet cloth that obscured his visage from her glare.

"Wait!" Minerva called out, suddenly. Her head bobbed up and down as she peered out into the gloom, her pupils wide. There were _some_ advantages to being stuck in her Animagus form; enhanced eyesight was one of them.

" _There_ ," she whispered using her paw to point just off to the right of where she and Hagrid stood on the forest track. Big as he was, Severus was forced to step in close to the burly groundskeeper so as to see around his bulky form at what had caught Minerva's attention.

Faintly, they could see light; bluish in colour, it stood out for its unnaturalness.

 _Like a will o'the wisp_.

Hermione's distinct otter patronus swam its way toward them, taking what could only be described as a circuitous route.

 _Any thoughts on her commanding her Patronus to not come to us directly?_ Severus asked a question Minerva was quite sure he could answer for himself.

 _You know as well as I do, it is likely she is trying not to draw attention to us. Or herself, for that matter._

 _And that would be because…"_

 _Because she is in trouble. Big trouble._

XXXXX

Hermione had managed to, ever so slowly, cover her lower half with leaves and pine needles for warmth. At this point, she needed the extra warmth. She had dressed for a less eventful walk through the Forbidden Forest; one in which she had not anticipating having to spend hours creeping and hiding along the almost frozen ground. Her hair was a tussle of knots and debris, despite her own cloak having been pulled up and over her form so as to not attract too much attention. Her knees were worn through her woolen tights to bare skin, scraped and bruised and in almost as bad a shape as the palms of her hands that had spent all these hours scrabbling in the dirt.

 _I haven't been in this bad a shape since the war,_ she sighed.

She laid still and watched as her Patronus had lazily floated off into the gloaming, hoping against hope that Severus had received her first message.

It _had_ to be Severus.

She had meant to run into him in the forest, so she assumed he was either here already, or on his way when she sent out her first message.

 _Rallying the troops is where the_ real _time went,_ she reminded herself as she fought off shivers that threatened to rack her whole body. She was getting too cold to wait much longer without fearing for her life.

 _Well, fearing any_ more _for my life._

Rather than dwell on her almost-certain demise, she tucked her chin down into her cloak and took another peek at her biggest little problem.

The smallest dragonlet she had ever seen continued to sleep happily snuggled between her sweater and blouse; just at the crux of her breasts. Had she been wearing a chain, the little thing might've looked like an oversized pendant. A mottle of grays and greens, when curled up, it almost could be passed over as a stone or clump of moss. Within the protection of Hermione's black woolen cloak, it was hardly more than a shadow.

As if it knew, the dragonlet emitted a small sigh of contentment, raising its head ever so slightly to look at Hermione with its blazing amethyst eyes. She had never felt a spell as powerful as looking into the eyes of a dragon. She was enthralled, all the while knowing she was trapped in the most dangerous position of her life.

And, just like that, the dragonlet closed its eyes and tucked its head back down into her cleavage. Hermione shook herself back into reality; even though she had only had the baby dragon for an hour or so, she found that with each meeting of their eyes — their minds — she was being entangled more and more into its very essence. As if she and the little creature on her chest were becoming one.

Hermione burrowed down further into her foxhole, and hoped the cavalry was on its way. Then again, if it meant having to explain this to Severus, she wasn't sure if freezing to death might be the better option.

XXXXX

Hermione Jean Granger fared better than most of the students who returned to Hogwarts to finish their educations after the war. Granted, many decided that life had taught them quite enough and moved on to careers without issue, but Hermione had wanted to return if only to gain some sense of normalcy back for herself. After years of struggling to get together, it took only months for she and Ron to fall apart. He chose not to return to school and they would row constantly about the time she dedicated to her studies, keeping them apart. When all was said and done, they didn't even manage to make it to the New Year.

Naively, Hermione had thought they might try again once she was done with school. She was already aware that Ron did not value a formal education as much as she did, but with all their history together, she was certain they would find their way back once there was more time.

That all disintegrated on her train ride back to London following a successful final year and glowing NEWTs. She overheard a Fifth Year girl talking about it; a lovely, but _hasty_ wedding of a friend of hers to one of the Weasley boys.

"You remember Sage?" she asked her companion.

"Barely," the other girl replied. "Sister to someone who died, right?"

"Great Merlin, Laura! Could you be more insensitive?" the girl who started the conversation kicked her friend in the shin, getting a loud yelp in return.

"Sage is Lavender Brown's sister! Lav died fighting Voldemort. Have some respect!"

"Alright, alright….oooo…" Laura moaned, rubbing her leg gingerly before asking. "That really hurt, you witch!"

"You were being a right—"

"So?!" Her companion broke in, rebuffing the coming insult. "What of it?"

"Weeelllll, the rumor is that one Ronald Weasley came around over the winter— wanting to pay his respects to the family—he dated Lav for a while you know— and, well, the rest, as they say, is history."

The girls tittered on, but Hermione had long since stopped listening. She felt paralyzed; like she'd been hexed into a stiff, silent place where the world could no longer reach her.

All her plans…

All the ways she had thought things might come back around were laid bare in their ridiculousness; as substantial as wisps of memory floating in a Pensieve. Her arrival in London only made it more obvious that life, and her expectations for it, had changed while she was away. Only Harry waited on the platform to meet her, and it became obvious by his rushed demeanor that is was only out of pity for her lack of family.

"Okay, so there's an extra key here, on the counter," he said, rushing about the kitchenette of his small flat before Hermione could even get her coat off. "Milk in the fridge, tea in the cupboard." He threw a book and a few pieces of clothing in a bag and zipped it up.

"Really good market just a few doors down if you need anything more substantial." He picked up his bag and headed for the door.

"Where are you going? I just got here," she asked, confused.

"Yeah," he stopped at the door, his free hand rising to rub his neck. His eyes never met hers. "Timing is bad, is all," he said. "Gotta get back to the Burrow. Big to-do out there right now…"

"Right," was all she said. She felt her shoulders slump. She should have realized, especially after what she'd overheard on the way home.

Harry looked visibly relieved that she didn't press him.

"I'm back in two, three days max, yeah? Make yourself at home," he said over his shoulder as he bustled out the door.

And she was alone again; an outcast; an oddity. She thought she'd left that behind when she'd found Harry and Ron. Thought it was over with when she'd survived the war and returned to school a hero.

Turns out, you can always be cast out, no matter who you are.

By the time Harry returned on the following Monday, Hermione was gone.

XXXXX

Waking up was the most unexpected part; at first.

Severus had never planned on living. Had never planned on having to confront the results of his ill-fortuned life. He only wanted the sweet relief that death was sure to bring.

Except he didn't get it.

He opened his eyes to the harsh fluorescent lighting above his bed in a darkened hospital ward at St. Mungo's; or at least he hoped that was where he'd ended up. Truly, he was in no position to make an assessment.

As was made plain quite quickly, he was also under close and constant monitoring.

"Well, well, Mr. Snape. Welcome back to the land of the living." A pleasantly plump mediwitch bustled around his bed, checking vitals and making notes all while waving a wand here and there.

"I don't think we expected to see you conscious for another week or so," she said without a hint of irony in her voice.

 _Sorry to disappoint._

He had expected his voice to be soft, hoarse, maybe even cracked. But he didn't hear a thing. And, as evidenced from the nurse's soft humming to herself, she didn't hear him either.

He tried to clear his throat. His muscles were beyond stiff and sore; he didn't feel like he could move them at all. Instinctively, his hand clutched at this throat.

"Oh, my, yes, my dear," his attendant replied, quickly coming to his side and grasping his hand away from the extensive bandaging around his neck. "You're going to want to give yourself some time."

 _Time? Time for what?_ He knew he should have been speaking. Why wasn't he hearing anything? Not even a croak?

"Your doctor will be here in a few hours," she cooed at him, pouring a cool glass of water beside his bed. "Here you go. Drink."

Severus took the first sip tepidly, but the soothing coolness only enhanced his thirst. Before he knew it, he was struggling to sit up in order to gulp down more.

"Easy does it," she said, gently taking the glass away. "Not too much at once. You'll make yourself sick."

 _How much sicker can I get? You already can't hear me when I'm speaking to you."_

The hand that was reaching to take the glass back changed directions and was now headed towards his own throat. Severus tilted his chin upwards towards the ceiling, allowing his long, bone-thin fingers to fumble with the gauze, all the while, he never took his eyes from the mediwitch. She stood, gaping, but never moved to stop him.

His initial contact with skin revealed what he expected; the bumpiness of scar tissue that seemed to be everywhere along the length and breadth of his throat. Considering that he was certain, at the time, that he was going to die, it did not come as a surprise.

It was only after he had run his fingers along his neck a second, and then a third time, that he started to realize the extent of the damage. The hollowness of his throat was more than that of a very sick man who'd lost some weight. The lack of structure to his neck; the fact that his Adam's apple could not be detected by touch—

His eyes widened in comprehension. _Bring me a mirror._

The mediwitch broke her gaze and filled his glass again, leaving it to rest on his side table. "Healer Smethwyck will be here in a few hours and should be able to address all your questions."

She got up and walked away from him abruptly, continuing to avoid looking at him directly. Severus could feel the strain on his face as he struggled to get her attention, but it was evident within moments that she was not going to allow that to happen. The mediwitch checked one more item on his charts and layered another blanket over his feet before turning off the light and leaving without a word.

Severus fell back against his pillows, his gaze turning toward the windows and the imminent sunrise of the new day, and began to realize that there _were_ fates worse than death.

XXXXX

Hermione came to discover that life had many more twists and turns in store for her. Working at the Ministry was the second thing that didn't go to plan.

She certainly had the ability and acumen to make a skilled Auror. Actually, her first manager was thrilled to have her, conceding that the last round of recruits ended up being mostly mediocre and almost all had washed out.

"Someone of your caliber and work ethic will most definitely acclimate much more quickly and adeptly to the work here in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," tittered Samuel Devine. "You will be a star in no time, I am certain!"

Hermione could clearly see the pride of his face; he expected that her success would reflect well on him. It made her wonder if her teachers had felt the same way.

 _Did they only tolerate me because my aptitude made them look good?_

She thought back to that moniker she'd earned: "Brightest Witch of Her Age" and it made her feel ill.

She tried to shrug it off, but she couldn't help to think back to the one person who had gone out of his way to make sure he didn't fawn over her academic prowess. If anything, he humbled her at every opportunity.

 _Maybe Snape had been right._

She supposed that she'd never really know.

Weeks turned into months and even years, but Hermione never felt content. Superiors came and went; promotions, too, but life never really felt fulfilling. Friends were few and far between as life took Harry and Ginny increasingly into their own family life, and Ron? Well, it was too difficult, at first, to even think about being in his orbit with his young, beautiful wife and their children (of course, he would have twins right out of the gate!). By the time Hermione was at a place emotionally where she might've been able to handle having Ron back in her life, they had lost the importance to each other that, at one time, might've been of value.

Her love life was even more pathetic, if truth be told. She dated, sure. She was something of a novelty at the Ministry, at first, and had more than a few suitors and a number of messy, drunken tumbles in her first year. Novelty waned, though, and her interest in those who were only looking to get seen with her, a hero of the last war against the Dark, waned even faster than the awkward offers. Before her second anniversary in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the word had gotten out that Hermione Granger was a cold fish.

It was only by chance (at least she thought it had been chance) that she ran into one Minerva McGonagall while out running errands on her lunch break in the Mayfair.

"Ms. Granger! How lovely to see you!" Minerva called out from some distance away, shaking Hermione out of her reverie as she stared into a shop window. She was debating the cost of a new winter coat on a particularly chilly December afternoon against her savings for a vacation to Majorca. To say she was surprised would have been an understatement.

"Professor?!" She gaped. "My apologies, _Headmistress_."

"No need for formality, Hermione," the older woman smiled, reaching out to hug her former student. "I'm so glad I caught you."

"Oh? What would bring you to London in the middle of school year? And why were you looking for me?"

"Because whenever I have a special project, I've grown very accustomed to having a certain, savvy young woman at my disposal with whom to work," she said. "And it just so happens, I have something _very special_ I am going to need some help with."

XXXXX

Severus Snape was no one's project, least of all Hermione Granger's, and he took especial affront to her return to Hogwarts.

"Of all people, Severus," Minerva scolded, " _you_ should know what it feels like to experience loss and rejection."

Severus crossed his arms and scowled.

"She has thrived here before; I think she can again. The larger world is not to her liking, at least not at the moment. And I think we could all benefit from her taking on even a temporary tenure here." Minerva was tempted to cross her own arms, but resisted the urge. She didn't want this to escalate into a confrontation. She needed him to feel like he was lending his assistance to her; Minerva bit back a smile. She didn't want to give the game away.

 _I am still uncertain as to what it has to do with me._

"You can be obtuse when you choose to," Minerva sighed. "I would like for her to study with you a bit so she can take over a teaching position."

 _You mean to give her_ Potions _?_

"Can you say you are happy with the current occupant of said position?" she asked, pointedly. It wasn't that Blaise wasn't competent; but perhaps maybe not as diligent as he could be.

 _He does not respect the artistry of potions…_

"We can agree on that."

 _It will take time. And she will have to prove equal to the task._

"I have offered her a position in the Library, for now. She will be inventorying the Restricted Section and making recommendations for updates to the collection while also assisting Madam Pince with the regular needs of the students. She seemed quite keen on it when we spoke."

 _Is she aware that you have more in-store for her than just Library Sciences?_

Minerva smiled in that way that she had, and Severus knew for sure that Hermione Granger was completely ignorant of what _truly_ in store for her. He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth—a habit of his old life when he needed to measure what he was to say—and hid his smirk behind his long, delicate digits.

Minerva glanced down, coquettishly, and stirred cream into her tea, hiding a growing smile of her own. She knew he would mistake her silence for agreement, and she let him. After all their years of friendship, it still surprised her how easy he was to read; and deceive.

' _And you, my friend. The joke is most definitely on_ you _, too.'_

XXXXX

Hermione was awakened by a small peep and a nudge from the beak-like end of the dragonlet's muzzle. As she opened her eyes, she saw that her scaled companion had crawled up to peek her face out at something beside them. The glass ball was nestled in close enough to Hermione's curled up form that her scaled companion was able to tap at it with her snout.

' _Severus' SeeAll. Where did that come from?'_ Hermione tilted her head up slowly to see, but was only greeted by the dusky grey of the forest just before nightfall. If someone was out there, trying to get to her, now would be the best time to do it. She couldn't see a thing, and from all the indications she was getting from her nervous companion, neither could the dragon.

She tapped the memory keeper and was greeted with a quick sequence of images: the Potions lab, she and Severus, making Felix Felicis for the thousandth time, a closet full of glittering golden ampules fading to black as the device expended its last image.

"Luck," she mouthed. _We're all going to need it._

XXXXX

 _Your stirring has improved quite a bit, Ms. Granger. At this rate, we will be ready for higher order potions in a few weeks._

 _Hermione, please, Severus. I'm not going back to calling you Snape. Not after all this time. And good. I'm getting quite bored with golden Felix here. I have all the luck I could possibly use for a lifetime!_

Severus could only roll his eyes in return. He struggled at times working so closely with a former student, and yet, no one could have made it easier than Hermione Granger. She slipped into Legilimency so easily (certainly more easily than Mr. Potter ever did) that their conversations became natural inside of weeks. And her aptitude for learning had not waned in her intervening years at the Ministry. If anything, Severus was willing to say she was even _more_ eager.

 _If that's even possible._

 _I can still hear you._

Even after only a few months of intensive study, it was easy to see that Hermione was going to be a natural at the _art_ of potions. She had a delicate touch and more than enough attention to detail. She also valued getting things correct the first time, so she took her time with preparing her ingredients, as well as maintaining her equipment. Severus could not help but notice how she was careful to dry her silver cutting knife thoroughly so as to prevent rusting. Or how she was diligent in sharpening the same knife prior to every use. She was as precise with all of his tools, if not more so, than he was. He trusted her to the point that he stopped thinking of all the apparti as _his_ , and started to refer to it as _ours_.

It did not go unnoticed, by either Hermione or Minerva, but only one of them had the grace not to bring it up.

"So, how is your little project going with our _wunderkind_?" Minerva asked as they sat, enjoying a hot pot of tea and some Battenburgh in the solarium of her offices. It was a winter ritual she had come to enjoy company for.

 _Almost as well as can be expected, considering the subject._

"Oh, you _really_ can be exasperating, Severus!" Minerva groaned. "The only person in this whole castle who doesn't know you are completely over-the-moon with her is _you_!"

Minerva stopped and put a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but now that she'd said it aloud…

Severus' face had curdled. He looked as if she'd tried to feed him snake meat for lunch.

"Severus, really, I—"

 _Is THAT what this was about?!_ He pushed back from the table and stood up abruptly.

Until this point in time, Minerva didn't know that yelling was possible via Legilimency. Lo, and behold, it was. She bit her lip. "Truly, you know I would _never_ —"

 _ENOUGH!_ And he stalked out of her offices in a cloud of black wool crepe and wounded pride.

' _Unless my eyes deceive me, your cheeks were as red as a summer rose. Like it or not, Severus, I've hit a nerve. And a sensitive one, at that.'_

Minerva could almost purr.

XXXXX

By the time Hermione started inviting herself along on Severus' forest treks as he scoured the woods for ingredients, Minerva's inference had fevered his brain. He could hardly tell the girl _(alright, young woman)_ not to come, as it was his job to mentor her, but he found himself increasingly flustered around her person. And it was only getting worse.

 _Weren't we supposed to be looking for these coniferous pods for the extraction of sap, Severus? she asked, holding up an elongated seed of a muted violet color. It sparkled with sticky liquid collected on its scales like small jewels._

 _Hmmm? Um...yes, why?_

 _Because you are stepping in a pile of them?_

He looked down to find she was right; she was always right. And he found himself squatting down not to look at the cones as much as to hide his absolute delight in _her_.

The effort it took for her to suppress a giggle was enrapturing. She did it for him, so as not to embarass him, but it only made him admire her all the more. Her pink cheeks puffing away in the cold as they harvested mushrooms. Or the way her hair snuck out from beneath her woolen hat in riotous curls that almost always made there way around to her face and, inevitably, in her mouth.

"Pffftttth! Stupid hair!" It was one of the few things she said aloud when they were alone together.

He was most enamoured of how normal he felt around her, relatively speaking. Normal had never come easy for Severus, and then, after he'd made the most calamitous decision of his adult life...well, let's just say, Severus Tobias Snape was fairly sure "normal" was not something the was ever going to have to worry about.

So surviving what should have been his own death was not the only shock he had to confront. Coming back to a world without Voldemort, or Death Eaters or the sorts of prejudice they peddled; returning without a role to play or a mask to wear. He was going to get a second shot at... _something_. A life; perhaps not exactly normal, but it would be more than he had ever thought possible.

And here, in the watery, winter sunlight of a cold December day, feeling at ease with a person who had become more than a student, but also a friend, he felt conflicted. Odd. In unfamiliar territory. Here he was, at complete ease with another person. They both enjoyed silence and didn't clutter up a perfectly enjoyable hike with extraneous chatter, in whatever form that might take. She made "talking" easy again; and she proved to be as good a listener.

He found himself shaking his head in disbelief, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

 _Severus? Are you okay?_ She had silently crept beside him, placing her hand ever so gently upon his shoulder. Her face showed mild concern and a certain openness that he had come to expect from her. She was all genuineness; nothing contrived.

 _Yes. Perfectly well._ His own hand reached over to hers, grasping it lightly as he lifted it off his arm and turned to look into her eyes. His mouth curved slightly upward into the vaguest hint of a smile as he squeezed her fingers slightly before releasing them.

 _Maybe even better than that._

Hermione didn't have to tell him that he was still speaking aloud.

XXXXX

 _Is he saying that a dragonlet is_ IMPRINTED _on her?!_ Minerva was getting used to Severus yelling in her mind. She wasn't sure that was necessarily a good thing.

"No, Severus. He's saying that it's _possible._ "

"Aye, it's what I a'ready said," Hagrid agreed as he sized up a dragon print left in the mud. "Whew, she's a biggun."

 _Is there anything that can be done, you big buffoon?_

 _Severus! Enough. I won't have you taking out your anxiety on Hagrid._

She was right. He was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He just felt stretched to his limit by this whole thing. How? How could she have gone off and been so foolish?

 _You mean curious? Eager? Confident? Sounds like Hermione Granger up and down._

Severus could feel the migraine creeping around edges of his eyes like a looming predator. He would pay for this excitement with a few days in bed.

A screech in the gloom took them all away from their thoughts.

Minerva ducked down into Hagrid's vest, pressing her ears back and suppressing the instinct to hiss.

"I am _not_ intending to end up a nighttime snack," she said, eyeballing Charlie's large and ominously hungry-looking horned owl.

"Nah worries, 'eadmistress. You're safe 'ere." Hagrid absentmindedly patted her a bit too hard on the head with his overlarge hands, and she retreated further down into the quilting.

After depositing its message the owl choose to perch a ways off. It was lost under the cover of dark, but the reflection of his eyes could be seen by the light of the moon. Severus unrolled the parchment, reading it yet again, and rolled it back up. This scenario had already played itself out several times and Minerva was beginning to wonder if even her master of Dark Arts was in over his head.

For his part, Severus looked like he'd just taken a large swig of sour milk.

"Well, Severus? What do you think?" Minerva prompted, impatiently.

 _I think, I wish I'd never been born._

"And today, I wish I had opposable thumbs, Severus. But I do not! So do be a good boy and read us a story," she retorted, sourly.

 _The summary is this; we need to cover Hermione and her companion both in a strong animal scent in an attempt to disguise them among the myriad of other smells in the forest. That might work long enough to get them away without having to engage a wild, adult dragon. Charlie is on his way to examine the dragonlet, should we get them both out alive, but he is not — shall we say — optimistic_.

"Ok, then. So what do we do now?" Minerva asked, casually glossing over the inherent implication of failure in Charlie's reply.

 _I thought you'd never ask, Minerva._

And there was _nothing_ good about the look on his face.

XXXXX

"Are ye sure 'bout this?" Hagrid asked, wringing his hands. Minerva had truly not seen the big man so squeamish before.

"It is what will need to be done if we are to retrieve a whole, healthy Hermione Granger, and not just a charred corpse," Minerva said as calmly as she could manage. "Just head back to your hut and retrieve Fang, as Severus requested. And please, be quick."

Hagrid gave one last look into the night-shrouded trees from whence Hermione's Patronus had come hours ago. He sighed and began his journey back.

"Ahem!" Minerva perked up, putting her claws, ever so gently into the flesh of Hagrid's arm.

"Oy! Right," he replied. He stopped and slowly lowered the cat onto the ground below before continuing on towards his hut.

Minerva moved briskly to Severus' side and peered up at him.

 _No._

 _It's partially your fault I'm in this state, Severus. The least you could do is keep me warm._

 _I am in_ no way _responsible for your state as I never suggested you test the potions on your own person._

 _But the potion_ was _faulty._

 _I beg to differ. I believe if the potion was faulty, it was not one of ours._

 _Oh! It's_ **ours** _now, is it?_

 _Jog on, Minerva._

Minerva reared up and swiped him, claws fully extended, across the thigh. Instinctively, he reached down to grasp at his leg and she leapt upon his shoulder. Severus gritted his teeth as she made her way inside his cloak.

 _You should have just taken me from Hagrid._

 _..._

 _Are you sure this is going to work, Severus?_

 _Aside from attempting to engage a full-grown dragon, we have few other options. It is cold out. And dark. She will freeze if don't do_ something _. And soon._

Minerva found herself, unwittingly, moving closer to his body heat. Even she was chilled; and she had the benefit of fur, at the moment.

 _Hermione must be nickel-plated by now._ Minerva arched her neck back over Severus' shoulder to see if her acute feline vision could find the Gameskeeper. She saw him rumbling over a hill not far off.

 _He's on his way._

 _Once I've set up the spell, its all up to you, Minerva. Are you ready?_ Beneath fur and ears and cat eyes, it was still Minerva McGonagall; and she was always ready.

XXXXX

"This is _not_ what I signed up for!"

 _Nor did I. Nor did Hagrid, but here we are, Minerva. And for the life of me, if there was ever a time when it was absolutely necessary that you be stuck in your Animagus form—well, THIS is definitely it!_

Hagrid was sympathetic, and awkward, but resolute in his determination to help no matter what. "I's nah easier fer me, either."

"You're just taking Fang for a 'walk'," Minerva grumbled back. " _I'm_ the one doing the 'walking' in this case!"

 _You can say it aloud, Minerva. Urinating. We're all grown ups here. And we all—._

"Don't."

At the moment, she wanted to 'eliminate' on Severus' precious, shiny dragon-hide boot. At at time like this, he still managed to find a little moment of smug triumph in her humiliation.

She wanted to claw the look right off of his face.

 _Later._

 _Speaking or not, your feline features give away your thoughts, Minerva. And despite my anxious feelings about our situation, I can still allow myself a little grim satisfaction at your discomfort._

 _Now you know how it feels._

She could hardly argue with that.

It had all been with the best of intentions on her part. She loved Severus; maybe not like a son, he was far too prickly for that. But he had not had the easiest life, and she regretted the way she had participated in using him to her own ends—the ends of good, of course—knowing full well it would likely cost him his life. When he, miraculously, survived his injuries, she did everything she could to make up for it. She housed him; nursed him; gave him purpose and focus.

And now? Now she was nudging—no, pushing—him toward something she had never even asked him if he wanted. And yet, she couldn't stop herself.

 _I have very few regrets in life_ , she thought. _I'm not about to start second guessing myself now! Not when I feel_ so right _about this._

She jumped out of Severus' cloak to the ground with grace, stuck her tail in the air and turned her back on them both.

"A little privacy, if you please."

The two men silently agreed to retreat.

Severus had concocted something that could only be described as a bomb. It was small, to be sure, and comprised of mostly things he had scrounged from their immediate surroundings: pine cones, needles, tree bark. His premise was that if they could cover Hermione, and her stowaway, in animal scents, they might walk out of the forest unscathed. And now it was Minvera's turn to add her "contribution" to the device. Hagrid had already cajoled Fang into playing a part; he even retrieved a sample from Buckbeak although no one was quite sure how. Some questions were better left unasked.

According to Severus' many readings of Charlie's owl and the briefest of messages from Hermione herself, the mother dragon was alerted by overt magical usage. Spells and charms utilized too much magic to go unnoticed, so hiding Hermione with spellwork was not an option.

It was the reason that Hermione's otter patronus had swum a leisurely backstroke to them despite her urgent need. It had to be subtle and small to fly under the dragon's radar.

Minerva was quick to realize that, even in her human form, the three of them would be no match for an adult dragon; much less a mother who is searching for a missing babe. They lacked strength and expertise. So, subterfuge would be their weapons. She had to wonder if her unfortunately "accident" with the potion wasn't more than it seemed. She was _certainly_ more useful in her animagus form in this scenario. There wasn't much time to ponder it, but it most definitely niggled at the back of her brain.

Her concerns were what they would do if this failed. The potential consequences gave Minerva a shiver that went deeper than the winter's chill. There could be no mistakes.

XXXXX

 _There won't be much room for error. I will need Hagrid to be prepared to take Hermione and run as fast as he is able back toward the castle. Only the innate magic of Hogwart's walls can protect us from a fully rampaging dragon._

Minerva nodded curtly. "We are all standing by to do our utmost!"

Hagrid's shaggy head bobbed in agreement. "T'weren't ever a gal I'd cared for mahself more! We're here fer 'ermione!"

Snape was never one for easy smiles, but he found his lips pressed together and turned up, ever so slightly, just then. Hermione Granger inspired love wherever she went and even in the most unexpected of places. It was a magic all her own. He had to turn his eyes away from his companions for fear of letting his own deepening emotions show too plainly.

"What will _you_ be doing while we're whisking Hermione away?" Minerva asked pointedly. Snape knew she must have surmised by now, but she was going to force him to say the words.

 _Fighting a dragon, I imagine._

"Alone? With not near enough expertise and certainly not enough power?" she protested. "Ten years on and your M.O. is ever the same, Severus Snape!"

 _I don't take your meaning, Minerva._ Snape bided his time, squatting low and mapping out a path through the gloaming toward where they suspected Hermione was, never once looking back at the (yet again!) exasperated Minerva.

"Dying. You are always trying to find a way to kill yourself!" She could not cross her arms as she might've wished to; but Minerva sat still and regal, her long, feline neck curved elegantly to her head that sat with its chin cocked up in his direction. Defiant. Angry. Disappointed.

She went on, not waiting on an answer.

"You might think about facing your ultimate fear; living.

"Some of us _love_ you, Severus."

He slowly turned his face back and pulled the curtain of hair away so he could look at her, and she at him. She held her rigid posture allowing him to take her in; fierce and vulnerable all at once.

"Not all of those things that are most feared lurk in the unending darkness of death. Some of the scariest are right here, in the land of the living, where people count on you; and love you.

"Don't be so quick to throw yourself at the dragon to prove you are a knight in shining armour. Some princesses would rather find out what it means to _live_ with their knights."

Minerva crossed the leaf-strewn path between them and pressed her small, warm body up against his arm. "I'm not your mother; and you are not my son," she continued, "but I could not have chosen a child better suited to me if I _had_ had one of my own. And I'm fairly sure I am not done raising you yet."

She rubbed her head, briefly, against his arm and then turned, abruptly, to walk back towards Hagrid. When she got herself into position, she nodded at him.

"We're ready," she said, looking up at Hagrid who smiled in agreement.

 _Well, then. Let's rescue ourselves a Princess._

XXXXX

The initial "bomb", if one could call it that, was overwhelming. It was all Severus could do to see through his watering eyes as he crawled the last few yards towards his target. He could only hope that the potency of it's smell was sufficient to cover his tracks. Something about what Minerva said to him stung. Was he afraid to live? He could not tell if she had hit a nerve or if he just wanted to prove the old battle axe wrong. Either way, he could barely contain his anger at himself; once again, he was dancing to Minerva's tune.

He set off a second one as he approached the all-to-still form in the darkness, but before reaching in to press his fingers to her throat. The pulse he felt was faint, but distinctly alive; and for that, he was grateful.

He was less than thankful, however, for the hiss that greeted him when he reached beneath her shoulders to begin to heave her out of her hiding place. The eyes, which was truly all Severus could see in the darkness, glowed with an inner light that was absolutely captivating. Severus forgot everything he was doing; the impending dragon attack, the rescue of Hermione, his own imminent danger. Everything was lost except for the eyes that stared at him now as if with their own life force.

 _You are known._

 _Did it speak to me?_

Hermione moaned, and all thought of the dragonlet was forgotten.

 _It is alright now. I am here._

 _..._

She had managed what little sound she had left in that last gasp. Her weight was dead against his efforts and, despite her slightness, was almost impossible for him to manage from that awkward vantage. The plan had been for him to dislodge her and drag her back to a safe distance where Hagrid would take over, but here, _now_ , he was not sure that he could manage.

He would have to test the veracity of his plan. If he was going to be able to save Hermione, he was going to have to use magic to get her out and hope that he understood Charlie's all-too-brief message.

He cast the charm. And the roar that followed seemed to cleave the forest in two.

Severus' head jerked around, his eyes suddenly blinded by a streak of flame that passed close enough that it felt it's heat on his skin. It was all he could do to keep levitating Hermione's body; he had not expected that much fear to overtake him.

He was most definitely _not_ the same since the war.

He gripped his wand tight and tried to renew his focus on his primary task. Fumbling in his pocket as he did, he found another scent bomb and threw it just beneath his feet, watching the thin mist drift over his own form and that of his precious cargo. The deep purple eyes beneath Hermione's cloak blinked twice before squeezing themselves shut against the fumes. Severus could only hope the use of alternative animal scent was working at creating enough confusion for the dragon.

The sound breaking branches nearby, and getting closer, told him otherwise.

 _Ready or not…_

He gingerly pulled Hermione's form free from her hiding place. Selfishly, she gathered her up in his arms under the auspices of warming her, but deep down, he knew it was more visceral than that. He could feel her unwelcome companion squirming against him as well, slowly making its way up towards the opening in her cloak. As he strode quickly towards the waiting Hagrid, Hermione limp in his arms, her head flopping against his shoulder, he could also feel the dry, rough beak of the dragonlet, slipping its way between them—touching them both.

It had the nerve, in the midst of it all, to give off a sense of contentment.

A loud boom, and the crack of a large, old tree trunk, exploding, roused a panic in Severus. The branches swept down across him as the tree fell, and he hunched, curling into himself trying to protect them all. He was never going to make it.

 _Dammit all, come get her!_

He managed to push out of the imprisoning net of needles and branches in time to see Hagrid's bulk lumbering towards him at a faster pace than he would have thought possible for the half-giant. Severus practically launched his cargo at him.

 _Get her out of here! NOW!_

Hermione flopped like a sack of potatoes over Hagrid's shoulder, still unconscious and unresponsive. Severus felt like screaming at the man for his carelessness, but he understood that Hagrid was preparing to run and needed use of his arms. He watched as Minvera found herself unceremoniously stuffed into a pocket before the Gamekeeper turned and took off.

The last Severus saw of them all were the piercing, purple eyes peeking out at him from the collar of Hermione's cloak, the black head bouncing, it's neck extended as if to look at _him_ , Severus, for just a few more moments.

He could not help but wonder how something so small had created such a big problem.

 _I only hope I get to find out._

His dramatic swirl of robes was abruptly thwarted in a tangle of tree branches as he whipped back around to face his, as yet unseen, foe. As he raised his wand, his mind went blank except for one, small but insistent thought.

Fight fire with fire.

Severus started small, with multiple _Incendio_ spells, first as a protective ring around himself, and subsequently, as a means to progress towards the dragon. Great gouts of flame flew from his wand. He even built a long, high wall of fire down and around the valley in which they had found Hermione. He thought it might help to contain the beast, although, he had no way to be sure. Even with all of Hagrid's idle prattle, little and less was known of the true natures of dragons. It was the reason they reached out the Charlie Weasley in the first place; he was an expert in a field that had a dearth of dedicated devotees.

But Dr. Weasley hadn't arrived yet. Severus would have to do the best he could.

The initial brightness of the magical fire only succeeded in causing him night-blindness, but he noted that could hear no further progress from the large, magical beast. He was certain he could not have killed her. No one killed a dragon by "accident". Like as not, _his_ death would be the accident. He proceeded cautiously in the direction he thought he might find her, hoping with every step she would be gone.

Instead, he found the She-Dragon moved into a protective stance; wings splayed and rounded around her body, her eyes alert and facial-plates pressed forward in a fierce display. Severus would have gulped, had he had any of the anatomical structures left to do so. And yet, he observed, she made no move to attack. He was utterly vulnerable, and in her direct sights. He wasn't even certain that his improvised "stink bombs" were still working. He was sure that even if he could not be seen, he was sensed in other ways. Still, she remained perched, interested only in protecting herself and her brood.

 _Has she mistaken me for her equal because I raised fire_?

Severus had no stomach for destruction; not of flora or fauna. Not any more. He had stubbornly stuck to a smaller, less invasive incendiary spell rather than unleash complete destruction on the whole of the forest and its inhabitants. This place was sacred and healing; for him as much as for the beasts that lived here. He did not want devastation if he could avoid it. It only briefly crossed his mind that, on account of his desire to preserve this place alone, he might still be pursuing his own demise. It was a habit he'd thought he'd given up.

He stood there, still, unsure what to do next. The Dragon showed no signs of softening her stance. She kept her eyes hard on him without even a flicker of fatigue. His bones already ached from the damp cold that was surrounding him. The loam of the woods was still releasing its last gasps of life before the hard hand of winter fell. Moisture filled the air with fog like a chilled breath; the kind of cold that seeps into your body and threatens to freeze it down to your marrow. He did not even dare to shiver.

He needed to ensure that Hermione would be safe; that the pursuit was over. Would the dragon just move on now? Would he be able to just walk away?

He found himself, involuntarily, backing away. Slowly. He never heard him coming.

"Well, hullo there, Severus. Looks like you've caught yourself a dragon! And she's a bute."


	2. The Outsider

**A/N June 26, 2019** Not sure why, but my "scene break" lines are refusing to update to this document... so I've added in some alternative breaks to try and clear this up a bit for ease of reading. I just noticed that it was not working.

 **A/N:** I'm certain that the person I started writing this for has completely given up on me finishing it; and that's a shame since I've known since the beginning where this was going, but somehow, couldn't get there. Glad to get a burst of much needed inspiration and get this second chapter together for my dearest friend and inspiration, the lovely _Story, Please_.

I would not be where I am without you.

For the other readers who have hung on this long, or to you who may be new to this story: I have adjusted my use of symbols to indicate speaking inside of the mind/ using Leglimancy utilizing the asterisk symbols * * - this seems to be something that is not automatically undone when I upload into FFN. I still have some work to do to update the first chapter which is, because of the missing notation, confusing to read. I do apologize - I did not realize it at the time. I will be working my way through that as quickly as I can.

Just an FYI - I started off with a chapter name that I thought was clever without any plan as to where it would go next. Realizing that I had started with Mr. Stephen King, I decided to stay there: All chapters will be the title of SK books or stories, including some that he wrote under his pseudonym, Richard Bachman.

 **The Outsider**

Severus rolled over to find that he was not alone.

 _*Will nothing go to plan?*_

"I'm not exactly sure what your plan is, Severus, but if you have one, I'm here to suggest you arise from your bed and execute it."

He dared to pull back an edge of his cover to peek at dour face of Minerva McGonagall. She had transfigured something in his rooms into a chair; he knew he did not have a spare seat in her personal rooms. Why would her? He certainly entertained no guests.

He was not sure if he was grateful that she had not taken the liberty to sit on his bed, or if he would, eventually, miss whatever it was she had changed. Severus was sure it would seem more important when his head stopped pounding.

 _*I will need more rest—*_

"There's no more time for that, Severus," Minerva interrupted the slow, plodding of his thoughts. She moved in a bit closer, chair and all. "We will lose _her_ if you don't get up and make yourself known. And soon."

That caught his attention.

 _*Lose her?*_ He peeled a few more inches of covers off his face to reveal his other eye, a mess of bedhead and his prominent nose. _*Hermione?*_

"It's good to see that at least two of your brain cells are still functioning?" Minerva replied, tartly. "Or do I have your "little brain" to thank for that?" Her mouth was twisted up in a way that could only be described as annoyance, tinged with self-righteousness.

 _*The feeling is mutual, Minerva.*_

"Don't force me to open these curtains," she replied, pulling her wand out of her robes.

 _*You would_ not _be that cruel,*_ he managed, his eyelids pulled back as wide as they were like to get in his current condition. His rooms were dark, and not only because he preferred them that way. His promise of a migraine had not been an idle one, and the pitch black room was only one of a myriad of ways he was attempting to recover himself after the rescue from the forest.

 _*I am up. I am trying...for the love of Merlin, Minerva.*_ His head still throbbed, pounding at the back of his skull as if a small beast were trying to get out through the base of his neck. He would have cried — he was not above it. Not with Minerva — had he not expended all the tears he had in the first day of his agony.

She tucked her wand back into her robes as Severus struggled to seat himself upright. As the covers fell away, the chill of his rooms reminded him that he had been ensconced here for enough time that his fire had been allowed to go out. _And_ that he was naked. Thankfully, Minerva was nothing if not the soul of discretion.

"I've raided Poppy's potion stores," she replied, calmly, as if nothing was amiss. "Two Pepperups. I thought it would be best to give you a 'one-two punch'," she said, handing him the first one with the stopper already removed. "Once we get you upright, I'll let Poppy do the rest."

Severus sipped gingerly, fearing to tilt his head with any speed. He finished and returned the ampule, reaching out slowly. Minerva was in the process of unstoppering the second when he interrupted her.

 _*Behind you. In my cabinet,*_ he pointed, his long arm betraying the slightest shake of weakness. He still wasn't aware of how long it had been since he'd retreated to his room; or how long it'd been since he'd eaten. Minerva crossed the tiny, spare room in a single long stride. The cabinet in question was tall and narrow, much like it's owner. She reached for handle at chest level.

 _*No. Below. In the lower half.*_

Minerva bent down, opening the lower, larger half of the old wooden cabinet. Within, she saw two shelves, crammed to bursting with bottles of all shapes and sizes. "Good gracious, Severus. How will I ever—"

 _*Shush, Minerva!*_ came his reply. _*Look for the tall, thin bottle. Towards the back.*_

Her hand emerged with a bottle of frosted glass, covered in cobwebs. "This one?"

Severus held up a soft light from his wand to check the coloration on the potion. _*Yes, that's it. Bring it here.*_

"What is it?" she asked as she handed it over.

 _*Potion of Peace. I'm hoping it will help alleviate the tightness in my neck and shoulders._ He took a small sip. * _At the very least, it should assist with healing in general by relaxing the overall tension in my body.*_ His eyes closed and he rested his head back against the headboard of his bed. The felt the potion move its way through him; a calming of the soul as much as his physical being. After a few minutes, he took a much larger swig.

 _*I'm ready for that second Pepperup*_

"What are the chances you are going to be ready to do more than sit up soon?" Minerva asked, handing him the second vial.

 _*Soon. Tell me what brought you here to care for me. It obviously wasn't concern for my health.*_

Minerva physically cringed as she resumed her seat. Her motivations had been entirely selfish. She likely would have left Severus to his own devices for a day or two more, and then sent Poppy Pomfrey down to his personal chambers had all things been equal. But they weren't.

"I won't say you are wrong, Severus. My apologies," she twisted in the chair, suddenly uncomfortable.

 _*Well, this obviously has nothing to do with a bad Polyjuice potion,*_ he replied, snarkily.

"Glad to hear you sounding more like yourself."

 _*Glad you are_ looking _like yourself. So,* he took a mouthful of potion. *Tell me.*_

"Well, certainly you know how fond I am of Hermione," she said, hesitantly. "I had planned to groom her for Head of Hogwarts."

 _*You have lots of plans, Minerva. Plans for_ everyone _it would seem.*_

"Please, Severus," she said, turning her gaze towards the hands she had twisted in a knot in her lap. "I know—I know—I meddle too much. How many ways can I say I am sorry?"

 _*You can try words, first. We can work on compensation later.*_ His eyes were closed again, as if he were still in pain; but Minerva was grateful for the smile that began to curl at the edges of his lips.

"I'm glad to hear your sense of humor is returning. Any chance that is an indication of your energy level, as well?"

 _*I'm still waiting to hear what requires me to leave my sick bed.*_

She sighed heavily. "Charlie Weasley has been singularly helpful in helping us decode what it means to be a dragon parent. He has spent the past three days continually in Hermione's company." She hesitated. "She and Jayne seem quite — _taken_ with him."

 _*Isn't that what he was brought here for. So far, I fail to see the problem.*_ Minerva rolled her eyes. Her long-time companion and friend had an intelligence that was unquestionable, but not for matters of the personal relationships. _And especially not love_.

"Perhaps I am being too subtle."

 _*Perhaps.*_

"There are — _nuances_ — to raising a dragon. Intricacies of the mind..." Minerva tried hard to find the right words. Severus was not known to respond well to being bludgeoned about the head even when well. She tread carefully. "More and more, Hermione will have to manage the influence Jayne has on her and how she perceives the world. How she reacts to people and places."

 _*And you are — unhappy with how she is managing that?*_

"I wouldn't say _unhappy_ — only — concerned."

 _*Because you want her to take over your job? Because_ you _have the audacity to have_ her _life mapped out for her even without her knowing?*_

Minerva could only press her lips together and nod. He wasn't wrong; he was hardly ever wrong. He was also hardly ever delicate.

Severus did not have the vocal capabilities for sighing any more. Nor did sighs seem to translate into Legilimency. It was only the extended rise and fall of his chest, and the exaggerated breath through his nostrils that cued Minerva in to his level of frustration. Or resignation. It was difficult to tell which was which.

 _*I must assume this also has to do with your plans for me,*_ he said, finally.

"As much as I could ever make plans for you—"

 _*Tosh, Minerva. You make plans for_ everyone! _And I am your favorite 'pet project'.*_ His chest heaved again. _*You were less than tactful when you mentioned my affinity for Hermione all those months ago, but you were_ not _wrong.*_ He forced himself to look at her directly. _*I may be closed off from many, but there is little I can get by you, Minerva. Annoying as that might be, I am also grateful for your persistence in mothering me.*_

Minerva felt herself let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding. "She needs contact with the life she lived _before_ she found Jayne. To remind her of what her passions and goals were before she became the caretaker of a higher order magical creature.

 _*Is she losing a sense of reality?*_

"No, I don't think of it as losing touch as much as it is that her likes are very influenced by Jayne's. And, at the moment, Jayne very much likes spending time with other dragons." She hesitated only a moment. "And the people who care for said dragons."

Severus only sat, staring at the drape-shrouded window and sipping his tea in silence.

"Perhaps...perhaps I misread the situation," Minerva said, finally, rising from her seat. "I will leave you to recover."

 _*You did not misread the situation, as well you know, Minerva._ *

"Then why are you still sitting here? For the love of Merlin, Severus — Go! Remind her of her life here!"

 _*Who am I to ask that of her?*_ he paused to look at Minerva, to make sure she could see his eyes, his face. _*Charlie is young — successful —_ whole.* He could not help but raise a hand to his throat. He'd forgotten, as happened more and more frequently as the years passed; he had sat here for almost an entire half-hour with ruin of his neck laying exposed in the company of another. * _Why would I rip her away from that when she deserves so much more than I can give her?*_

"Because it isn't just about you," Minerva replied. "It's about her. And her making the best choice for herself!" Minerva crossed back, side-stepping the chair and taking a seat on his bed. "And she is most definitely _not_ herself. The dragon influence is too strong in her mind right now, and she is losing herself in the process." She clutched at his hand. "Don't do it for me — I don't have the right to ask. And don't do it for you — Because then you would _never_ do it. Do it for _Hermione_. Do it so that one day twenty years from now, she doesn't wake up asking herself 'How did I end up here?' "

He looked at her hand, clutching his, papery thin and so white. When had Minvera gotten so frail?

 _*For Hermione and her alone?*_

"Yes. Just for her. No ulterior motives, I promise."

His finished the last of the Pepperup in a single gulp. _*Send the House Elves with food. I'll be up and around within the hour.*_

It was all the agreement Minerva needed.

OoOoO

* * *

It was more than an hour — it was nearly two. Foggy and in pain, Severus emerged from his personal quarters and began the long, slow slog to the main level of the castle. He sent off his familiar Doe patronus to Minerva in advance of his arrival, deciding it was in his best interest not to raise his blood pressure — and risk a relapse — with the climb up to her office. By the time he emerged from the dungeon stairs, she was already waiting on him.

"You look terrible," Minerva chirped. He could only describe it as a chirp. It was _that_ chipper.

 _*I_ feel _terrible, so I have that going for me. What has you so lively, dare I ask?*_ He knew he shouldn't have.

"Your timing could _not_ be more perfect. Charlie has taken off with his dragon to get some exercise. Hermione's alone for the first time in days." She frowned a bit. "Well — as alone as she gets with Jayne."

 _*Must I assume Jayne is her dragonlet? The one we accidentally abducted from the forest? You know, the thing that almost cost me my life?*_

"You do have a knack for focusing on the negative, Severus."

 _* ...*_

In the years since his miraculous survival, he'd gained a "knack" for a few more things than just the negative. He was a master of faces now; and the one he wore at the moment could have frozen a steaming hot cuppa on sight. However, Minerva was also proving to be something of an optimist in her latter years; and she was, seemingly, never deterred by her friend's icy glare.

"Yes. As you have so astutely surmised, Jayne is Hermione's dragonlet," Minerva answered with no acknowledgement of her companion's obvious frustration, "named after a character in some Muggle book she is fond of, or so I believe." She prattled on as Severus silently tried to keep up. "As far as Charlie knows from his experience, all dragons start out female — and this one is proving no different."

 _*Right.*_ He was making for the east corridor when Minerva tugged at the elbow of his sleeve.

"No, no. She's still in the Infirmary."

 _*Is she still unwell?*_

Minerva clamped her lips together into a small, crimped line. "Not _unwell_ , per se; but certainly not herself," she said. "You'll see."

 _Indeed I shall._ They made the rest of the trip in blessed silence.

Hermione was asleep when they arrived, tucked into a corner of the large space designated for the care of simple maladies and common illnesses. Since her convalescence was taking some time, Minerva had — with Poppy's express permission — created a private little nook off to the side where Hermione could mend her body with something resembling privacy. At the moment, the guards were down, leaving her — and her dragonlet — visible to anyone who might enter. Minerva quickly re-raised the wards and the concealment charm she had constructed once they were within the perimeter of Hermione's designated area.

 _*It might be less than welcome to disturb her rest, Minerva.*_

 _*Yes, I agree. And I am certain Poppy would be most insistent, were she here. But she is not, and one does not often get to take advantage of such an opportunity!*_

Severus was a bit taken aback at Minerva's enthusiasm. Or was it urgency? Was there more than meets the eye with her? He found himself thinking back to the forest and her supposed potion issue that forced Minerva to be stuck in Animagus form. It was more than a little suspicious…

"Well, hullo there, Severus," Hermione greeted him through a groggy smile and half-opened eyes. "I feel like I haven't seen _you_ in a lifetime." A wave of relief swept him when he saw her; pink-cheeked, vibrant, healthy and in one piece.

 _*It has seemed nearly as long for me.*_ He watched as Hermione stretched and began to reorganize herself in her bed; and as Jayne, nearly twice her size in a mere two days, uncurled herself from the bottom edge of the bed. Severus was glad that his instinct to sit at said corner had gone unheeded. The glossy black scales now looked significantly more formidable, with small but noticeable horns beginning to develop on them. Jayne rested her head across Hermione's lap but never once blinked as she stared at Severus.

 _**You are known.**_

It was the same greeting "she" had given him before. Then, as now, he had not known what to make of it — beyond the general surprise of discovering that dragons spoke — but he had a better sense of it now, and decided to push the boundaries.

 _**As are you.**_ He couldn't have been sure before that moment that Leglimency would work; dragons were old magic — not something that tended to play by the rules and order of what wizards studied now. Still, it felt the same. Mostly. Having a creature of any kind in one's head was most definitely different than speaking with a human, but after a decade and more of communicating this way, no one was better suited to parsing out the differences than Severus Snape.

He watched with a twinge of triumph as the dragon nodded, slightly, and closed it eyes.

"So, we are going to be working on flying soon," Hermione prattled on. How long had she been talking? Severus found himself flummoxed as he pulled his attention away from Jayne in order to try and catch up to the conversation Hermione was, evidently, carrying on by herself. "Charlie says that Jayne should be big enough by Spring to mount, so I can fly out to Romania and study with him there."

 _*I'm sorry, what? Romania?*_

"Well, yes," Hermione said, perplexed at Severus' reaction. "Jayne is greatly enjoying being with Stoat, and I will need to learn everything I can about dragon care. It seems fairly obvious that I would _have_ to go to Romania."

 _*We have perfectly good magical creature resources here in the UK. The Scamanders, off the top of my head…*_

"Well, yes, of course. But truly, there is no substitute for hands-on training. Plus, Jayne _adores_ Stoat." Hermione reached out to pet Jayne's head. Jayne opened her eyes and stared daggers at Severus.

 _*Am I to assume that Stoat is Mr. Weasley's dragon?*_

"Yes," Hermione's smile broadened. "Isn't it clever? Stoat? A weasel—"

 _*I get it. Drole.*_ He could feel himself tiring, not just physically, but mentally, too — and her sudden turn to inanity? Minerva wasn't wrong; Hermione was different. Still, it was hard to tell if that was more a feature of her recovering from illness or the influence of her new addition. Severus was starting to realize that he was going to need to spend some time with his long nose in a book.

"Why are you doing that?" Hermione interrupted his personal thoughts.

 _*What's that?*_

"That," she demanded, "speaking in my mind. I'm right here."

Severus wondered if a mute could be left speechless. _She doesn't remember._ _How much doesn't she know?_ He eyed the dragonlet with suspicion. As if on cue, Jayne opened her eyes and let out a snort of smoke.

"Severus?" Hermione broke in again. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

 _*I apologize, Hermione. I'm just not sure what to say.*_ He rose from his seat and straightened his robes. _*Perhaps it is best left to another day.*_

"Tosh," came a voice from the far corner. "Why not hash it out _now_ , dearhearts." _Damn you, Minerva._ She rose and approached him. "Let me get you both some tea. That will set you right." She patted his arm and shuffled off before he could protest. Severus sank back down.

"I hope she brings tea sandwiches, too," Hermione added excitedly, pushing herself up a bit more in the bed. Jayne seemed to perk up, too. "So, tell me again," she motioned lazily towards Jayne who leaned in for a scratch. "About your voice?"

 _*I can no longer speak. It has been quite a while since I could.*_ Severus stared at the floor; devastated. _How could she not remember? Her, of all people, who had gone out of her way to make him feel comfortable in his own skin?_

"Hmmm…odd that I don't remember that," she mused, obviously distracted. "Oh, look! She _did_ get sandwiches. Severus peered over his shoulder to see Minerva returning with a trolley — and one Poppy Pomfrey, who looked less than pleased that her charge was being disturbed.

"It will have to be a quick cuppa," Minerva smiled through clenched teeth. "Doctor's orders." Severus could only imagine that she'd gotten an earful as Poppy spied her approach.

 _*Certainly Hermione could use some rest, as could I*_ Severus rose a second time, pouring himself some tea but making it clear that he would be taking it to-go. _*I would like to visit again, Hermione. If that is possible.*_

Hermione answered mid-bite. "I wulf make it soonmph," she managed around her sandwich. "I plan to leave as soon as I am cleared." Severus couldn't help but notice that it was Jayne rather than Hermione who stared at Poppy, which gave him significant pause. Hermione seemed to be content with consuming sandwiches and tea. He looked over at Minerva only to be greeted by her raised eyebrows. He didn't need to ask to know what she was thinking.

 _*Certainly*_ he replied with more calm than he truly felt. This was more of a crisis than Minerva had led on. _*I will return and join you for dinner. We have much work to catch up on.*_

"Work?" Hermione sat forward to look at him for what might have been the first time. Her whole demeanor had been odd, but her unwillingness to engage in conversation — with him, especially — had been downright strange. This sudden interest in work and learning might be the most she sounded like herself the entire visit.

 _*Yes. We are in the midst of a number of projects at the moment. Don't you remember?*_ Severus gazed over at Minerva who nodded in agreement. He needed to turn Hermione's thoughts back to her life before she had a dragon.

 _**Before?**_

 _**Yes, little one. We had a life before you.**_ Severus looked directly at the dragonlet who had also perked up and was leaning a bit forward. The curiosity was palpable off of them both. _**_ We.** He arched his eyebrow at Jayne and nodded, watching as her mesmerizing purple eyes widened at his challenge.

 _*Can I escort you out, Minerva?*_ Severus gestured, offering up his arm and purposefully turning his attention away from Hermione and her new companion, knowing full well that he had their undivided attention. He could not have played it better. With any luck, Hermione would ruminate after he was gone, shaking loose bits and pieces of memories that seemed buried. _Or lost_.

"Certainly," Minerva took up the suggestion, crossing the room swiftly. It was clear that Poppy Pomfrey had more to say on the matter, but the Headmistress cut her eyes at her in a way that brokered no argument. "I'll be by later as well, Hermione," she added, a smirk on her face. "Perhaps. It is likely once you are done, more company is the last thing you'll want."

"Really?" Hermione asked, leaning forward, her sandwich long forgotten.

Minerva smiled and patted her hand. "Oh my, yes, Hermione. You are _always_ in the midst of something. You are the busiest witch I know!" She threaded her arm through Severus' and gave him a prod toward the door. They exited with Poppy in tow.

Once the door was closed behind them, Poppy immediate pounced. " _You're_ not going anywhere, Minerva," she scolded. "I haven't seen _you_ in several days, and we need to check in more frequently than that." Poppy then turned her attention to Severus. "As for you," she stepped into his personal space without a hesitation, "you still look sallow and drawn. What in _Merlin's name_ gave you the idea that you were ready to get out of bed?!" Severus could only stare daggers at Minerva over Poppy's head.

Oblivious, Poppy continued. "You feel feverish, and I am not sure what is powering you, but it isn't food. Sit down!" Severus always felt like a child again around the forceful Healer. He sat without a hesitation, much to Minerva's amusement.

 _*Stuff it, Minerva*_ he griped. She had to stifle a giggle.

"Please, Poppy," she interrupted. " _I_ dragged him out of bed. I needed his support — with Hermione."

Poppy whirled around on Minerva. "She's not leaving here," she insisted. "Not any time soon, anyway."

"Oh, I agree. But it is not something she seems to be grasping at the moment."

 _*What are you doing to treat her?*_ Severus asked. He'd hoped to keep the conversation on Hermione's condition going, if only to keep Poppy's ministrations away from him.

"What's to treat?" she snapped. "Imprinting to a dragon is an individual experience. It is something she will have to work out with Charlie's help, I imagine." Severus flinched, visibly, at the mention of Weasley's name. Poppy misread it as illness. "Are you faint?"

 _*No. Only tired.*_ He waived her off and rose with something resembling his customary bearing. _*I have over-extended myself.*_ His mistake was thinking that Poppy Pomfrey was in the least bit intimidated.

She put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back down into his seat. "You're damned right you have, you careless oaf! Now sit still so I can look you over, or I'll immobilize you." She flipped around on a silently laughing Minerva with her wand drawn. "And you're next if you don't get in that seat right next to him!" Minerva skulked her way into a chair and looked up at Severus.

 _*This is a fine mess you've gotten me into.*_

"Nothing like a little complication to keep life interesting."

They both remained quiet while Poppy went about some preliminary diagnostics. She fussed and bustled, recommending more rest for them both, but most especially for Severus. "I am at a loss as to how you are even upright, actually," she complained. "I want you back in bed immediately. And don't you even _think_ about coming back here tonight."

She was about to address Minerva when the older witch preempted her. "I know, Poppy. I'm a _terrible_ patient." She rose to reassure her Healer and friend with a quick squeeze of the shoulder. "I promise you," she pleaded, "I'm doing the best I can. And I _will_ be back soon for my medicine." She looked over Poppy's shoulder at Severus, and back, lowering her voice. "I have to make sure the future is secured...for Hogwarts."

Poppy's aggression deflated, revealing her genuine concern. "It is _important_ that we stay on schedule with your treatment, Minerva. _Please_. Don't play willy-nilly with this."

Minerva nodded silently, a tight smile on her face. "I promise." Poppy looked over her own should at Severus, who was already suspicious once the level of conversation dropped down into a range he could not hear clearly. Now, he was down right alarmed. She retreated without another word to leave Minerva and Severus alone.

"Can I accompany you back to your rooms?" she asked.

 _*Can I assume you will be coming clean with me on what this is_ really _all about?*_

"Most assuredly," she smirked. Severus only had energy enough to go along with the pretense of honesty promised. He hoped he'd be in a position to demand it in actuality soon.

OoOoO

* * *

Severus found himself lying down, his body aching but his mind working overtime, making rest an impossibility. He had already assured Minerva that he would rejoin Hermione in the Infirmary, despite what Poppy had said - so what he needed at the moment was to sleep and replenish his energy.

 _*If only my mind agreed.*_ He sighed, silently. _*Nothing to do for it but make myself useful. And, perhaps, deal with the 500 pound gorilla.*_ He imbibed another PepperUp, letting the flush of the potion pass throughout his body — giving him a false sense of strength.

 _*Now, if I were in need of exercising a dragon, where would I go?*_ Severus found that there were few places that lent themselves as well housing to large magical creatures as the Quidditch Pitch and its surrounding fields. He bundled himself up in an extra layer before donning his usual robes and heading out into the Highland winter.

"Good to see you up and about, Professor," Charlie Weasley called out, his arm extended above his head, waving, long before Severus was within shouting distance — _if_ he could shout. Instead, his eyes were drawn up towards the shadow that circled the Lake and looked like it could blot out the sun. Stoat, it seemed, wasn't as cute as his name suggested. Severus was certain that he might be large enough to swallow Hagrid whole — and _that_ was saying something.

He finished his approach with a wary eye towards the sky.

 _*Good to be seen,*_ he replied with a casualness he hardly felt. _What are you doing, you dolt?_

A smile broke out across Charlie's open, unguarded face. "Oh?!" he asked. "Is it? That's hardly the sort of answer I would have expected from you when I was a student here, Professor." He raised a hand to shade his eyes as he crane his neck back to see where Stoat was.

 _*Truly, you aren't a student here any more,*_ Severus replied, _*and I am not the man I used to be.*_ That had more truth in it than Severus preferred, but there it was. _*It's_ Doctor _now, isn't it?*_

"It is," Charlie answered, his smile dimmed as he took measure of the man before him. "But I hardly stand on ceremony." He reached out to place a hand on his former professor's shoulder, being certain to his meet his eyes, before he added, "Severus."

Severus nodded in return. In every way that mattered, they were equals now — no need to pretend otherwise. _*I'm here on urgent business, I'm afraid, Charlie. I need to understand what is afflicting Hermione.*_ His eyes shifted away from the younger man's, down, but quickly diverted back out to the lake, as if he were suddenly taking in the beauty of his surroundings. Severus knew he wasn't fooling anyone. _*I am woefully ignorant of her circumstance, and Minerva_ — *

"Yes, I know she will need all the help she can get," Charlie broke in in an attempt to ease whatever discomfort there might be. If anything was clear, Charlie was _not_ discomfited by the meeting.

 _He knows he has already won._

"She'll need to make a concerted effort to get her house in order, and she knows her time is shorter than she'd like."

 _*I'm sorry?*_ Severus blinked against the sun as it reflected shards of light back into his much too sensitive eyes. _*I'm sure Poppy has that all in hand_ — *

"What do you think we're talking about here, Severus?" Charlie whipped around on him, stepping in closer to his former professor as if someone else was around who might overhear them.

Severus took an unconscious step back, preserving his personal distance. _I have no worries of being overheard. Not out here. Not ever, anymore. *I thought we were referring to Hermione's much altered state of being?*_

"That will resolve itself once I leave," Charlie stated with the confidence of someone who was working well-within their comfort zone. "She is 'dragon-drunk', at the moment. It will pass once I take Stoat and head back to Romania."

 _*She believes she is going with you*_

" _Jayne_ believes she's going with me, and Stoat, of course," Charlie smiled and, unconsciously craned his neck up to look at his dragon. Severus wasn't sure that Charlie wasn't also a bit drunk. It felt like they were talking in circles. Charlie looked back at his companion. "It's _Jayne_ talking, Severus," he edged closer, again. "Jayne controls all things right now," he braced his arm against Severus' shoulder in a show of comradeship. "It's a phase and it _will_ pass, but I will help it along."

Severus felt as if the wheels in his brain just didn't turn fast enough. _*How can you help it?*_

"By leaving," Charlie said. Stoat took a large circle around the lake and started to descend. The gusting breeze around them picked up as if they stood on a tarmac. Severus wrapped himself in his robes tighter against the cold. Charlie allowed his tweed to flap open, his hair plastered straight back as he faced into the wind.

 _*With Hermione?*_ He cringed to himself, Charlie still turned away from him. _How pathetic do I have to become?_

Charlie laughed. "No. Goodness no, Severus." His former student, now completely cast in the shadow of his dragon, turned back to face him. "I've already been through _one_ bonding," he smirked, "I have _no desire_ to do that again!" He stepped over towards Stoat as the large Hebridean curved it's long neck around to where they were. Charlie reached up to scratch his nose. "It was good that Minerva called me, but my work here is done. Hermione must do the rest on her own."

All of Severus' sighs were silent now. For once, he was grateful. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and found himself staring at Stoat. Severus had never been this close to a dragon before, and it wasn't long before he found himself swimming in the fierce, cold purple eyes before him; drowning.

"It doesn't take much," Charlie announced, loudly, as he tugged on Severus' shoulder, physically turning him away from Stoat. "The hypnosis is powerful, even with a dragon that is already bonded."

Severus shook his head, startled at his susceptibility. He swallowed against a throat suddenly dry with fear. _*Thank you.*_ Had he spoken, it would have been in a whisper. _*I'd best be heading in.*_

"Most assuredly," Charlie agreed, "You don't look quite right, Severus."

 _*There was one other thing, however,*_ he whipped around on the younger man, his eyes wide with remembering. _*If you weren't talking about Hermione earlier, who_ were _you talking about?*_

The smile on Charlie's face died. He ducked his head down before reaching up to touch Stoat, as if for reassurance. "Perhaps it is best if you get it from the horse's mouth, as it were."

 _*Which horse?*_

"Minerva."

 _Minerva. *It would be her,*_ Severus joked mirthlessly. _*Very well. I'll cross that bridge with her and soon.*_ He reached a hand out to one Dr. Charles Weasley and shook it with a vigour he didn't feel. _*Thank you. For everything.*_

Charlie shook back, his face, for once, somber. "Good luck, Severus," he said. "Between the two of them, you're going to need it."

OoOoO

* * *

The shade of the castle corridor immediately eased the pounding in his head. Severus took a moment to take in a few deep breaths and collect his thoughts. _And_ his emotions.

 _Charlie doesn't have designs on Hermione. But do I?_ He pressed the thought away. It was all Minerva's machinations that had him unsure and off-balance. _Minerva_. What was Charlie trying to tell him? He opened his eyes and pressed forward toward the infirmary.

"I won't have you disturbing my patient at all hours, Severus," Poppy demanded, her body physically intervening with his progress across the open ward. "I've finally gotten her to settle down for a bit and I cannot have her upset again. She _needs_ to rest if she is to recover her wits."

 _*Fine, then.*_ He wheeled around on the diminutive woman, standing up just a bit taller to maximize his intimidation factor. _*Let us chat about Minerva, while I wait?*_ He motioned her to a chair. _*Shall we?*_

"I don't plan on talking to you about _any_ of my patients, Severus," Poppy replied, nonplussed and most definitely not seated. "And don't you dare try that _hovering_ thing with me!" She slapped him on his arm. "I'm _NOT_ one your students to be bullied about!"

Severus found himself backed up into the seat he'd intended for the practical and practiced Healer. He flopped down like an adolescent boy, beaten. _*I'm sorry, Poppy...I'm just under a lot of stress.*_

"You don't even know the half of it."

 _*That is_ precisley _what I mean!*_ Severus wanted to rip his hair out. Why was everyone being so cryptic with him? _Since when did I become so fragile as to need all this protection?_

"I don't need yet another person to take care of," Poppy said, handing him a cup of tea that he hadn't noticed she'd fixed. "Believe it or not, I value my holidays. I use them to recuperate." She pulled a chair near to his own and sat. "I take stock of potions, replenish my herbs. I enjoy long hikes for my own health." She smiled as she leaned in to take a sip of her tea. "I have _even_ been known to grab a Butterbeer and kick up my heels a time or two over in Hogsmeade." She winked and sat back. "So, as you can see, I am less than thrilled to have residents in my Infirmary right now; and I'm not looking to add _you_ to it."

Despite her good-natured tone, Severus continued to feel like a student being berated by a teacher. His whole mood was off. _*I'm not trying to add myself to your care, Poppy. I only want to know what is_ truly _going on.*_

"By the looks of you, I'd say you are most definitely working on the former." She placed her china down in its saucer and handed it off to him. She strode over to a nearby cabinet and pulled out two vials, returning swiftly. "I'll need you to replenish these along with a few other things," she said, handed them off in exchange for her teacup. "Drink up."

 _More Blood Replenisher._ Severus drank it down without a hesitation; he knew he was still feeling worn thin by his ordeal in the Forbidden Forest. The second vial, on the other hand, was another story.

 _*Dreamless Sleep? This is hardly the time for me to be napping.*_

Poppy pursed her lips in disapproval. "This is the _perfect_ time for you to be resting! You are still healing; and I am in need of a rest of my own. From drama. Drink the potion and go lie down, for Merlin sake, Severus! All the worries of today will still be here tomorrow."

He let the liquid catch the weak, winter afternoon light before palming the vial, and slipping it into this robes. He was unsure the last time he had heard Poppy Pomfrey so exasperated, but he wasn't about to give up his primary pursuit.

 _*It is hard to disagree with your assessment, Poppy.*_ It was moments like this when he missed his voice the most. Here is when his deep, insistent, menacing voice could move people in ways he was certain his mind-voice did not. _Those days are long gone. *But I have no intention of going anywhere until I get some clarity on what secrets Minerva is keeping from me. And if i have to end up in here to do it,*_ he pointed at the Infirmary itself _*so be it.*_

Poppy Pomfrey sat back in her chair looking deflated. "I just don't have it in me to fight with you over it," she sighed. "There is too much to do, and I'm afraid time is running out to do it all. Minerva should have clued you in by now."

Severus found himself sliding to the edge of his own chair, his spine stiff with attention. _Was this ploy going to work?_ He tried hard not to look too eager.

"Minerva has what I believe the Muggles would call Alzheimer's Disease," Poppy said with the frank flatness of any medical professional. "While these sorts of mundane human ailments are generally treated more effectively with magical remedies, illness of the mind are especially tricky. And while Minerva is doing as well as she can, her results are — shall we say — inconsistent."

Severus felt himself sink back into his seat. Alzheimer's? He was flitting through his memory of Muggle maladies that might have been discussed in his own home growing up, but coming up blank. _*I fear you may have to illuminate me,*_ he replied after some moments. _*I find myself unable to place this ailment you speak of.*_

"That is understandable," Poppy continued. "This particular disease may have had other names in the not too distant past." She sipped at her tea thoughtfully. "It runs in families, too, so if you have not had immediate experience with it, there is a good chance that you are not familiar with it at all." She put her cup down and looked at him, intently. "No matter how long it takes, the prognosis is always the same, Severus. She's dying."

 _*We're all dying, Poppy.*_ He knew it was a glib thing to say, but he was too weary to stop it from coming out.

"Don't be trite," she scolded. "This is serious. It is not that she will die; it is that she will deteriorate to the point of not even knowing her own name in the process."

This grabbed Severus by surprise, and he jolted back into an upright position in his seat. _*What do you mean?*_

"Rarely do I not mean what I say, Severus," Poppy answered primly, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I never had much time for subterfuge. She will start to forget things; but it will be more than that." Her fingers twitched around the edge of her empty cup. "She will confuse things; start a potion, but be unsure how to finish it. Forget the proper way to flick a wand during a particular charm…" Her voice tailed off. Severus, too, found his mind flooded with all the ways that a witch in this condition could be dangerous to herself; and others.

Finally, he asked. _*Could she forget how to reverse her Animagus form?*_

Poppy pinched her lips together, her mouth turning downward into a frown. "Certainly, it's possible. I could use some time to consult with an expert at St, Mungo's," she continued, unconsciously flicking her eyes back over her shoulder to gaze at Hermione sleeping quietly. She sighed. "But time hasn't exactly been on my side. And besides, Minerva has strictly forbidden it; until things 'get worse'." It was clear from the look on Poppy's face that _she_ was sure it already had; but Severus understood. It was about their friendship; their camaraderie. She didn't want to betray a friend.

A thought crossed his mind and before he could suppress it, he realized he was speaking. (it was one of the many drawbacks of Leglimens for communication) _*Shall I poke around?*_ He clenched his teeth hard; he hadn't meant to get involved. _*Certainly, I have more connections at St. Mungos in recent years…*_

It didn't need to be said. Surviving Nagini's attack as he had made him something of a mystery. And while he was managing a mostly normal life, small amounts of the venom he'd been exposed to continued to flow through him. He was at St. Mungo's twice a year for regular check-ups. Sometimes, he participated in some additional testing, or a longer study there over the summer holidays. He'd been poked and prodded more times than he cared to count; and neither he nor the most learned Healers could be certain how it would affect him in the long term.

In short, Severus was a medical mystery, even in a world of magic. And yet, in this moment of revelation, he was grateful; if it could help his friend.

"I realize this would be a big ask," Poppy said after a long silence.

 _*You didn't ask,*_ he replied. _*I offered.* Fool that I am._

"It would certainly lighten my load a bit." Somehow, that didn't ease the discomfort on Poppy's face. Severus was not one for reading body language since his comfort level with people was only marginally better than it had been before the war. Still, he had managed to read some fairly well.

 _*But?*_

"I don't want you to seem too ambitious."

Now he was really lost. _*I'm sorry, Poppy. I am not following.*_

She sighed again. The light had waned to the point where deep shadows settled over the room, and her eyes, making her look tired and drawn. "This may require something a bit stronger than tea," she said, rising from her seat with some obvious discomfort. She shuffled forward to take his cup when he intercepted her, grabbing her wrist with ferocity.

 _*No more games. Just say it!*_

She didn't even flinch. No one could say that Poppy Pomfrey was easily manipulated. "It is the worst kept secret in the Wizarding World, Severus. You must be the _only_ person who doesn't know."

He raised an eyebrow and clamped down on her arm harder.

"She intends for _you_ to succeed her." Poppy turned her forearm into his thumb, pressing her full strength into his weakest joint — forcing his grip to break in a well-practiced self-defense move — and snatched her arm back from his grasp. "That's going to bruise," she mumbled absent-mindedly rubbing at her wrist while Severus sat there, stunned.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. _*I'm going to have to ask you to repeat that.*_

"She is grooming you to be the Headmaster here," Poppy obliged. She flicked her wand, successfully calling over a trolly of glassware with an amber bottle atop it. "And while I could _really_ use your assistance with researching her condition and contacts at St. Mungo's," she broke off, trying to find the right way to say it. "I'm afraid it would look…"

 _Ambitious_. He saved her the trouble. _*I believe your first word hits all the right notes.*_ He gratefully accepted the tumbler of Firewhiskey she has poured and threw it back in one gulp. _There will never be an end of questions about Minerva's demise and how I participated in it_ _for my own, selfish gains._ _Never._ His hand shot out for another before she had finished pouring her own.

"Does this _really_ come as that much of a surprise?"

 _*A Headmaster without a voice? Yes, it comes as a great surprise.*_ Was he to forget his past? Was the Ministry and the entire Wizarding community? _She can't have that right. *I had always assumed that Hermione was the one being groomed.*_

"Ideally, she certainly has all the qualifications," Poppy agreed. "But Minerva's circumstances have changed greatly in the past few years, and she needed to adapt." Severus noticed that his companion had broken her eye contact. Was that embarrassment? Or something more?

 _*So, I was only ever second choice,*_ he said, a frown spreading over his features. _I've grown nothing, if not petulant. I don't_ want _the damned job, and yet, I'm disappointed that I wasn't first choice._

"You made a better case for yourself once you started to creep back out of your shell," Poppy corrected with some vigour. "Hermione had her role to play with that, I do believe."

 _Hermione. Did all things begin and end with her?_ He looked over at her still form and was greeted with the glow of amethyst eyes peering back at him from beneath the foot of the bed.

He rose and began to make his way across the hall.

"Severus?" Poppy jumped up, spilling the remnants of her whiskey. "Severus! I must insist…"

But it was too late already. He kneeled down, easing himself to his belly and stared at the dragon. * _*Once upon a time, there was a ferociously intelligent young woman who had decided to give up her Ministry work to come back to the school she loved to teach…**_

Poppy watched as Severus and Jayne stared at each other, in silence, for an hour or more. She knew, intellectually, that they were conversing; but it was undoubtedly uncomfortable to be the only other conscious person in _that_ room. She drank quietly, wondering what they were discussing.

Finally, he rose, dusted off his robes and made his way towards the doors. _*My thanks for the drink, and the company,*_ he said over his shoulder without stopping.

OoOoO

* * *

 _**Is this woman my bonded? The one you speak of?**_

 _**Do you consider this person your bonded? The one whom you guard now?**_

Jayne's eyes closed down to slits. _**Yes. She who is in my thoughts, and I in hers.**_

 _**Then yes, this is who I am referring to.**_ He paused trying to decide if it needed to be said. _** Hermione.**_

 _**What is Hermione?**_

 _**A name for the one to whom you are bonded. A way to call them. As we call you Jayne.**_

Her head cocked to the side, much like a dog would. It seemed to roll around her mind for a moment. _**Hermione. Hermione…**_

Severus could feel the cold of the stone seeping through his wool, sending a shiver through him, but he suppressed it. He would show no weakness to this creature. He stared, waiting for Jayne to process.

Finally, she re-engaged him. _**Severus.**_

His eyes widened, ever so slightly, and a smile curved his lips. He nodded in the affirmative.

 _**You are known.**_ She cocked her head again, this time to the other side of her neck; her growing comb brushing the underside of the bed. _**You are bonded to this one as well. Beloved.**_

Severus found his own head moving towards the side now, the smile evaporating into one of hopeful inquisitiveness. He kept Jayne's eyes locked with his own. _**Beloved.**_

Jayne crawled out from beneath the bed, revealing her growing form in the silvery light of the full moon. Severus felt his body tense; she was twice again as large as she had been even earlier that day. Still, he lay motionless; waiting. And she sidled herself up against his body, laying her warmth against him; her head laying rest on his shoulder.

 _**You are loved.**_


End file.
